The Forgotten Leek
by Nubushi
Summary: This year's Gym Leaders and Elite Four Autumn Ball has a pokemon costume theme. Lyra is all dressed up and ready to go, but will she be able to find the certain someone she hopes to meet there? LyraxLance. One-shot fluff.


It was the night of the pokemon costume ball, and Lyra was giving her costume a final once-over in the mirror. The brown and white bodysuit was printed with a feather pattern, and long folds of cloth adorned with real feathers hung from her arms. She had a gigantic leek grasped in one hand, but it kept getting snagged on her dangling wing-sleeves, or bumping against other objects and getting in her way.

"It's more trouble than I thought to hold on to this thing!" she said to herself. To complete her costume she pulled the feathery hood, which was made in the shape of a farfetch'd head, over her face.

Running down the stairs to the living room, she swept out the door, calling a quick, "Bye Mom, see you later!" to her mother, who was in the kitchen cleaning up after dinner.

As a 22-year-old still living at home while finishing up university, which she had started a bit late due to the time she had spent exploring Johto and Kanto, she usually tried to help out her mother around the house when she wasn't too busy with exams, but tonight her mother had waved off her offer for help.

"It's all right, I'll take care of cleaning up. You have to get ready for your party, right?" she had said.

The annual Gym Leaders and Elite Four Autumn Ball was being held in Goldenrod City, in a banquet hall with a garden terrace outside. Contrary to the name, the gym leaders and elite four had long since opened it up for any trainer who wanted to come. This year, with the growing popularity of autumn costume parties, a tradition that had recently come to Johto and Kanto from the faraway overseas Unova region, they had decided to make it a costume party with a special twist—everyone was encouraged to come dressed as a pokemon. Trainers could bring their pokemon along, too, as long as they weren't too big. Lyra didn't normally get to spend a lot of time with her farfetch'd since it wasn't part of her battle team, but she always tried to make sure she made time for her other pokemon too, instead of letting them sit in the computer all the time, so today she would go as a matching pair with him.

She pulled out the pokeball and watched excitedly for the pokemon's reaction as it took form in front of her.

"Fetch'd?" it said in puzzlement, looking at her with its head cocked.

Lyra laughed.

"I guess it looks a little odd seeing your trainer dressed up like this, huh. Do you like it?"

"Farfetch'd!" The bird pokemon hopped and waved his leek excitedly.

"I'm so glad! Okay, let's go!" she said, and the two were off to Goldenrod.

With Farfetch'd at her side, she walked into the event hall where there was an excited buzz of chatter as the trainers in their pokemon costumes mingled with each other. Farfetch'd, not used to crowds, sidled a little closer to her leg.

"Don't worry, Farfetch'd," she said. "I won't let you get lost; just stick by my side."

"Fetch'd," it said, sounding a bit more at ease.

As she glanced over the crowd, she saw that trainers wore jumpsuits like hers, but others wore more normal clothing with just a few stylized accents indicating which pokemon they represented. Near to where Lyra stood in the entrance, there was even a huge, looming dark violet ball with arms and legs, with its back turned to her. Whoever was wearing the costume (and she thought she could guess who) had really put a lot of bulk into it to create a gengar's rotund form.

Not having found the person she was looking for at first glance, she scanned over the room one more time and before long spotted two trainers that were at the center of a hub of attention. One wore a painstakingly-created full-body dragonite costume, and next to him was Clair, with white wings and a horn fixed to her head and a gauzy train trailing behind her elegant blue dress.

Lyra's face brightened. She had had a feeling that Lance would choose to dress as dragonite.

She wove her way through the crowd of admirers, Farfetch'd sticking gamely at her side, and tapped the dragonite on the shoulder, beaming in anticipation.

"What?!" snapped a voice that was definitely not Lance's, and when the dragonite turned around, she was greeted by a familiar redhead. "Oh, it's you."

"Oh, Silver, what a surprise to see you," she said. Her smile had vanished for an instant in her surprise, but it quickly returned at the sight of her friend's face.

Farfetch'd, too, said its name in greeting. Lyra didn't think it had met Silver before. "Farfetch'd, this is Silver," Lyra added. "He's an old friend."

She was happy to see Silver there; he didn't usually come to these kinds of events, so it was good to see him warming up and doing something social.

"You're probably disappointed I'm not Lance, right?" he said dourly.

"Oh, no," she said sincerely. "I was just surprised because you don't usually come to these kinds of things, but it's always nice to see you."

"Then maybe you can do me a favor," he said.

"What's that?" she asked.

* * *

Lance prowled through the costume party cautiously, not wanting to attract attention to himself, his eyes continually searching for a certain petite brunette. He had deliberately opted not to dress as his favorite dragon pokemon—or any dragon pokemon for that matter—to avoid attracting excessive attention. Everyone knew who he was, and everyone expected him to dress as a dragonite; on the other hand, he was hoping to spend some time alone with someone without everyone's eyes on them. Mentally he thanked Silver for acting as a decoy for him.

His eyes returned over and over to the entrance, looking for Lyra, whom he hadn't yet seen. With his attention focused on the distance, a woman in a gracefully ballooning yellow-and-green-paneled skirt and orange flowers in her hair accidentally bumped into him before he could avoid her.

"Oh, excuse me," he said.

"I'm sorry," she said at the same time, and then her eyes widened in recognition as she looked at his face. "Are you—?"

Lance held a finger up to his lips silently and threw her a wink, then quickly glided on, losing her in the crowd. When he looked back, it didn't seem like she was following him; he breathed a sigh of relief. It wouldn't do for this to happen too many times, though; if word got around, he would soon be swamped with attention.

He moved a little further through the crowd, now feeling a bit more confident no one was following him, and looked again at the entrance.

Then he saw Lyra.

He didn't know why she was dressed as a farfetch'd—he would have to ask her that later—but that was definitely her, with her distinctive glow and joy of life. And, unsurprisingly, a pokemon at her side. Lance would also have loved to have one of his own with him tonight, but he had regretfully decided against it because it would be a dead giveaway of his identity.

Lyra paused after entering the event hall, her eyes scanning the crowd, and then her face visibly brightened, and she started making her way over to Silver and Clair in their dragonite and dragonair costumes. Well, she would realize soon that it wasn't him and come looking through the crowd for him, right? He felt a bit of misgiving in hindsight about not having told _anyone_ what he was going to dress as—shouldn't he have told Clair, at least?—but surely as long as he didn't lose sight of Lyra, it would be easy for him to find her once she left Silver and Clair.

But she didn't leave Silver. She stayed and started chatting with him . . . but it wasn't just a few pleasantries. It wasn't even a short conversation. Lance watched as the two of them went to the buffet together, as Silver took Lyra's oversized leek from her, holding it unceremoniously under his arm, so that Lyra's hands would be free to put food on her plate, and then as they went and sat down together.

And as they talked.

And talked.

And talked.

Not only were the two of them deep in an animated conversation, but even the farfetch'd that Lyra had brought with her was visibly warming up to Silver, starting to address its poke-talk to both of them, and taking greens from Silver when the trainer handed it something the pokemon looked interested in.

In response to something Silver said, Lyra laughed, covering her mouth with her hand in a way that at any other time Lance would have found adorable.

His heart felt sick inside him, and suddenly he didn't want to be here, surrounded by people enjoying themselves. He wanted to go somewhere to be by himself.

"Excuse me, are you Lance?"

It was the last thing he wanted to hear.

He tried his best at a polite smile as he turned around to face the woman who had asked the question, who had two friends with her. One in a mottled, light-blue jumpsuit with spiky ears and tail, one who wore a mischievous look on her face as she looked out of her purple hood, toying with a beige, hand-like appendix at the end of her costume's simian tail, and one with clouds of white wool affixed to her pink-and-black dress. The woman dressed as a flaaffy looked at him with wide eyes.

"So you really are here," she said. "We were all so surprised when the dragonite with Clair wasn't you."

"Well, it's a costume party, so it wouldn't be fun if there weren't any mystery, right?" he replied gamely.

The women giggled far more than the joke really warranted.

"I never thought of it that way," the flaffy said, looking up at him through her eyelashes. "I guess that's true."

He was about to open his mouth to make some excuse for a quick exit, but the nidorina was faster.

"Since we have a chance to talk to you, could you tell us how you got your Pokemon so strong?"

"Lots of time and hard work." The nidorina had looked serious when she asked her question, nothing like the moonstruck expression of the flaffy, a straightforwardness that in other circumstances he might have appreciated; the aipom's duck-lipped expression of disappointment, on the other hand, was sufficient to tell him what she thought of his honest but uninformative answer.

"We know _that_ already," she bantered, one hand on her hips, which were tilted at a jaunty angle. "Won't you tell us a bit more—like your daily routine or something?"

He drew in a large breath but checked himself before letting out a perceptible sigh, and instead began an abbreviated version of a spiel he often used when answering this exact question. "Well, being Champion isn't as glamorous as you might think. First of all, I . . ."

It wasn't until several minutes later that was able to get away, excusing himself and hoping to all the legends he knew that they would keep their word not to tell anyone.

But whether or not they did, he couldn't being recognized like this. Quickly making his way to the garden terrace, he slipped outside. He paused a little after exiting the room, letting his eyes adjust to the dark. It was just after sunset, and the stars were coming out; he could hear the voices of a few quiet conversations of other people who, like himself, had come out seeking privacy, but the night air was chilly, and there weren't too many people here. It was just the right place for him to be by himself a while and nurse the ache inside his chest.

Had Lyra loved Silver all along?

* * *

"Stick with me a little while and drive off these girls. They all come looking for Lance, and it's driving me crazy." Silver said.

"Sure, okay, where would you like to go?" Lyra asked.

"You just came in, so you probably haven't eaten, right?" he asked. Despite his curtness, the consideration of the question showed how much he had changed over the years. "I haven't gotten a chance to get to the buffet, either, swarmed by all these Lance admirers. As soon as one comes up, realizes I'm not Lance, and goes away, another one comes who hasn't figured it out yet."

"Sure, let's do that," she said.

They headed to the buffet together, and Lyra stayed with Silver and chatted with him while they ate, the two of them catching up on how their pokemon were and what kind of training they were doing. After they got their food the two of them went to a bench on the side of the room and sat down together to eat, and the number of girls approaching Silver really did seem to thin out once the two of them were together. She supposed the reason his being together with Clair didn't have the same effect was because everyone knew "Lance" and Clair were related, so there was no way they would be dating.

But as the evening wore on, Lyra really wanted to move on.

"I'm sorry, Silver, I've really enjoyed talking with you, but . . ."

He waved his hand to cut off her apology. "It's okay, I understand. Go find him." His voice was as gruff as ever, but beneath that she could hear the warmth of the kindness he had discovered inside himself all those years ago when he learned to treat his pokemon like partners rather than tools. "I should probably get back to Clair anyways."

"Do you know what he's dressed as?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No, just that he's not a dragonite!"

Lyra rose to go. "Okay, thanks."

"Lyra."

She turned back to face him.

"Thanks," he said, "for helping keep them away."

"No problem!" she said, smiling sunnily, and went to look for Lance.

* * *

Lyra felt like she had circled the room a hundred times.

Every time she saw someone she thought might know where Lance was, she asked them, but no one seemed to know.

Bugsy had apologized and offered to accompany instead, but Lyra had shaken her head and politely declined. "Sorry, maybe next time."

"Maybe it's better that way," he joked. "I feel a little intimidated by your costume." They both laughed. The bug-type gym leader had come dressed as a caterpie.

Falkner hadn't known, though he complimented her on both her excellent choice of costume and pokemon companion with a twinkle in his eye, and neither Whitney, Jasmine, or Will knew, either.

She had even made her way through a throng of male admirers to ask Clair, who only smirked and told her it was a secret.

She sat down for a little bit by herself after that, first setting her giant leek on the bench behind her (it was so cumbersome, really!) and then taking up Farfetch'd in her lap.

After watching what seemed like an endless stream of pokemon costumes flow before her, she sighed and said to Farfetch'd, "Well, shall we try making the rounds one more time?"

There was no response, and she looked down at the bird pokemon.

It was fast asleep in her arms.

"That's right, it's getting pretty late," Lyra said. "I guess I'd better return you to your ball so you can get some rest. Good night, Farfetch'd," she said, and returned her companion to its ball in a blur of light.

She got up, stretched, and picked up her leek. There was an ache of loneliness and disappointment in her chest. She shook her head. "This won't do. Come on, Lyra, one more time!" she said, forcing herself to regain her usual cheer, and geared herself up to start looking again.

Halfway around the room, she spotted the door to the garden.

"Oh, how silly of me," she thought. "I never thought to look outside!"

* * *

At the far end of the garden, standing next to the rail of the balcony and looking out over it, was a man in a costume that definitely could not be anything other than a persian, with the body suit covered with beige fur, and a long cat tail extending out behind it.

She couldn't see anything of the person inside the costume at all with his back turned to her, but there was something about his posture and the way he stood that seemed familiar.

"Lance . . . ?" she asked hesitantly.

The persian turned around at the sound of her voice, and this time it was the redhead she had been looking for.

For a moment, Lyra felt her worry and loneliness melt away into a warm glow inside her when she saw that it was Lance—but at his neutral expression, her smile faltered, and she was not at all sure what to think of the costume. Part of her felt amused at the idea of Lance dressed as a persian, but the head of the big cat pokemon, out of whose mouth Lance's face appeared, was just lifelike enough to be a little bit frightening.

As a multi-type trainer, she didn't identify with the feelings of any one type in particular, not like Bugsy, who felt a little queasy just looking at birds. So her unease probably wasn't because persians ate farfetch'd . . . but maybe just a little bit.

"Oh, Lyra, nice to see you."

Something was off.

Was it the persian costume, with its narrowed eyes, lifelike fur, and winking gem, that was unsettling? Or was it the fact that Lance's smile, in other ways cordial as usual, failed to reach his eyes? She wasn't entirely sure why, but underneath the polite greeting somehow it seemed as if there were a wall of ice between them, paper-thin and perfectly clear, but hard as diamond.

"I was looking for you."

He raised an eyebrow. "Were you?" The ice thickened so palpably she felt like she could see it happening. "You certainly didn't look like you were."

Hurt and confusion clouded her thoughts. "You saw me . . . you were looking for me?" she asked, made hesitant by the frigid atmosphere.

He inclined his head, not really a clear yes or no.

"Why didn't you come over and say something?"

"Well, you looked like you happy with the company you had."

Lyra stared at him for a moment longer, thinking back to whom she had spent time with during the evening. It didn't take long for her to remember, and then everything came clear. She let out a soft chuckle. "It's not like you to sulk, Lance," she said playfully. "Silver just wanted me to drive away your admirers. He's not a very social person, you know, so it's impressive just seeing him at an event like this. It must have been pretty overwhelming for him." She moved to a stone bench in front of the balcony rail, set her leek down, and sat down with a sigh. "That feels so much better," she said. "My feet are tired from walking around so much."

She stole a glance sideways and upwards at Lance. Seeing his expression, which had thawed into something resembling chagrin, her remaining tatters of worry and hurt faded away. "Were we talking very long?"

"For hours," he said wryly.

"Gosh, I'm sorry. You know how it is, Silver wanted to talk about training techniques, and when we get talking things like that, we can just go on and on."

He gave a soft whuff of laughter. "I understand now. I, too, have had conversations about training with Silver." The ice, which had been thawing already, broke up and drifted away.

"Were you looking for me long?" he asked gently.

She nodded. "I circled around that room more times than I can count," she said. "But it didn't occur to me until just now to look out here."

"Then I should apologize, too," he said, "for making you look so long. It probably would have been helpful if I had actually told someone what I would be dressed as."

"Lance," she said, reaching out lightly to touch his sleeve. "I really wanted to spend time with you tonight, I just . . . lost track of it. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it, we're here now," he said philosophically.

"I'm sorry there's not much time left . . ."

"You don't have to apologize so much, you know," he said, amused. "We'll just have to make the best use we can of the time we have left," he said, sitting down next to her.

"How so?"

"Like this, for example."

Without further notice, Lance shifted to lie with his head in Lyra's lap and looked up with her in amusement as he watched the color rise to her face.

She reached out a hand to touch the side of his face. Gently, like a butterfree wing.

"I can't stroke your hair with that hood on," she said.

He lifted his head enough to pull the hood back before settling back in her lap.

"Better?"

"Yes," she smiled down upon him. Hesitantly at first, and then more boldly, she ran her fingers through the red spikes of hair, teasing back up the locks that had been flattened by the persian hood.

"Mmm," he said in contentment.

"Does that feel good?"

"I would purr if I could," he said playfully.

"You're more like a persian than I realized," she teased.

He wasn't really, though, she thought—he had none of the sinister menace of the big cat pokemon, no devious gleam in his eyes hinting of nasty plots. If his expression was a little catlike, it was more like the expression of a handsome, well-cared-for house-skitty resting contentedly and safely in its owner's house.

He smiled, and for a little while they simply remained like that, the soft motions of Lyra's fingers in his hair gradually growing slower.

"Lyra," he said softly. For a moment in time, the name hung in the air like an ornament among the stars, one with the chill of the night air and the silence of the sleeping garden.

"Yes, Lance?" she gently.

He drew in a breath and was about to speak, but then Lyra's body stiffened and her head jerked up.

"What is it?" She relaxed again slightly, but remained vigilant. The special moment they had entered into mere seconds ago, with their names hanging in the air like stars, full and ripe with meaning as if they were the keys to the secrets of the universe, was gone.

"Oh, it's nothing. I was startled when a huge shadow appeared in the doorway leading out here, because it really looked like a gengar, but it's just Morty in his costume."

"Morty?" he asked, leaping upright in one lithe movement; taking Lyra's hands, he pulled her up beside him. "Whoops, can't have you being discovered," he said.

"Me?" she asked, surprised.

"You," he confirmed.

With one arm around her waist, he pulled her close to him, and with his other hand he fished around somewhere inside his costume to produce a pokeball.

"Sorry, I hope you saw all you wanted to of the party," he said, "because this persian is going to do what cats do and steal you away."

For reply, she merely snuggled further into the fur of his costumed chest.

It was only when they were soaring through the stars on dragonite, Lance's arms on either side of her as she leaned back against his chest, that she realized what she had forgotten.

It had been troublesome to carry anyways.

* * *

Morty squeezed the bulk of his costume through the door to the terrace garden and breathed a sigh of relief as he felt he cold air against his face. He wished he had had the foresight to put some vents in his costume; it was hot in this thing!

As he fussed with his costume, trying to let some cool air in, he thought he heard a man's voice and the flap of wings, but his eyes hadn't adjusted to the dark yet, and all he could see was a blur of motion like some large pokemon; by the time he could make out objects like bushes or people from the darkness, the garden in front of him, the benches in front of the balcony overlooking the town, were all empty.

"Huh, I thought I heard something," he said, and went over to the balcony railing.

Lying next to one of the stone benches was an enormous, artificial leek.

* * *

A/N: Huge kudos goes to mirrorkinomoto for encouraging me to post more LyraxLance and being a beta reader for this story! You are awesome!

To everyone else, thanks for reading, and c/c is always welcome, but feel free to just drop a line and say hello also.


End file.
